


Movie Night

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Smut, Spanking, horror movies, light Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You invite Tom over to watch a horror movie and you end up being the one screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night

There's a knock on the door, someone who is heavy-handed, but taps very lightly. “I'll be a minute!” I yell from down the hallway in my room. I am currently wrapped in a thick bathrobe, my hair twisted in a towel turban on top of my head, attempting to figure out the perfect outfit, not that I'm going out for the night. It's movie night, a quiet night at home, and I'm expecting my boyfriend, Tom, any minute now. The doorknob clicks and I hear his velvety British voice echo throughout my flat. “Darling, I hope you don't mind, I let myself in.” I look at the clock, damn, he's a half-hour early. We've only been dating for a few months, and not very seriously at that, what with him gone working half the time, but he had yet to be late. For anything.

“Hi, Tom,” I call, “I'm just getting dressed, I'll be just a few more minutes.” I hurry myself, picking out a pair of dark wash jeans and a Doctor Who shirt. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Tom can geek out just as easily as I can about things, Doctor Who being one of them, and he absolutely loves when I let my Nerd Flag fly. Before I met him, I never would have expected Mr. Perfect to be such a dork. But he is, and an adorable one at that. In my haste, I decide to forgo the socks and shoes, preferring to keep with the casual theme and slide on my fluffy pink skull and crossbones slippers. Flinging the towel from my head and at the chair in the corner of my room, I decide to also forgo the blow dryer. Instead, I run a quick brush through it, pull it back and secure it with an elastic band. It is only after I have walked halfway down my hallway that I realize that I have also forgotten to put on a bra, but the shirt I am wearing is fairly baggy, so I think, “Fuck it,” and continue towards my living room. 

Tom is standing near my window, watching outside, his back to me. I can tell he took my announcement that this was to be a casual date seriously because he is wearing black sweats and a t-shirt. I am so used to seeing him in suits, or at least slightly dressed up, that it seems surreal to me. He doesn’t hear me behind him, my footsteps muffled by thick carpet, so I wrap my arms around his waist, nuzzle my face into his back between his shoulder blades and take a deep breath. “Mmmm, you smell good,” I hum.

Startled, Tom jumps slightly, then turns around in my loose embrace. “I didn't hear you behind me,” he grins sheepishly. He wraps his arms tightly around me and picks me up, crashing his lips into mine in a passionate kiss. My mind goes haywire when he does that, almost like it's the human equivalent of a short-circuit. 

When he stops kissing me and sets me down, I get dizzy. “A girl could get the feeling she'd been missed with a kiss like that,” I swoon.

“I did miss you,” Tom answers. He had been gone filming a movie for over a month and this was the first weekend he had been home. Unfortunately for the both of us, there was no way for me to visit him on set, either. “Oh,” he says, his eyes shift around like he's remembering something, “I brought you some flowers and Peanut Butter Cups.” He reaches toward the table that's next to him and produces a bouquet of red roses and a bag of candy. Now, he's playing to my every desire, roses being my favorite flower, Peanut Butter Cups being my absolute weakness, which he can appreciate, being a connoisseur of chocolate himself.

Taking them from him, I gush, “Thank you! I missed you so much.” I move to grab a glass from the table so I can take it into the kitchen and put the roses in some water, but Tom still has his arms around me and doesn't seem to want to let go until I say, “Let me put these in some water so they stay beautiful.” He reluctantly lets go, but follows me to the kitchen and, as I take care of the roses, stands behind me and begins to softly kiss the back of my neck. A bolt of electricity shoots up from my spine and out every nerve ending. “If you keep doing that, we're never going to get to watch that movie,” I sigh. 

“That's what I was hoping you'd say,” he growls in my ear before lightly nipping it. To be fair, I know he's trying to create a distraction because he let me pick the movie and I, being a fan of horror movies have chosen to introduce him to a wonderfully creepy, low-budget 80s movie called “Superstition.” Tom is not much of a horror fan, in fact he admitted to me one day that most of the time, he gets so scared he watches them through his fingers. On the other hand, I think he secretly enjoys being scared by them. Me, I don't get scared. I'm the joker who makes fun of them.

“You're not going to dissuade me from watching this,” I say matter-of-factly, hoping he will give in so we can start the film. 

As I finish with the flowers and lean forward to grab a huge bowl of already popped popcorn, I feel his hand creep under my shirt, up my side, and grasp one of my breasts, where he starts rolling my nipple with his fingers. “Hmmm,” he says mischievously. I turn slightly and look up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Expecting me?” he asks.

I wrinkle my nose at him and shake my head. “That, my darling, is called selective laziness. Also known as I forgot and decided it wasn't important when I remembered. Besides, I know I'm not the only one around here going commando.” I wink at him and pull myself away from him, leaving him awestruck in the kitchen as I head to the living room and plop down on the couch with my popcorn.  
“Are you going to come join me?” I call after him.

Tom shuffles in from the kitchen. “Oh, I just might,” he shoots back at me sarcastically as he sits down next to me and puts his arm around me. By the look on his face, I can tell he's trying really hard to psyche himself up for this and it makes me simultaneously want to cuddle the hell out of him and do bad things to him. “Alright, let's do this,” he says confidently as I turn on the DVD. The sadist in me also turns out the lights because it's just the right atmosphere. “Do we have to?” he whines as darkness falls.

“Absolutely,” I giggle evilly and push the play button.

As the movie starts, I can feel him cuddle even closer to me, as though the proximity of me is what will shield him from the horrors of the movie. “First death scene,” I whisper as we watch two dumb high school kids play pranks in an abandoned house. Tom jumps as I snicker, “Death by microwave.”

“Do you really have to do that?” he asks, slightly annoyed.

Through a mouth full of popcorn, I ask, “Do what?”

Tom sighs. “Make comments about the movie.”

I shrug. “Coping mechanism?” I can tell he's secretly in awe already of my ability to watch these things without a hint of fear. I swallow my popcorn and lean my head on his shoulder. “I'll keep them to myself, just for you,” I whisper. 

I keep my promise and stay quiet, until the third death in the movie, which just happens to be a priest getting killed by a haunting circular saw blade, when I burst out laughing and say, “Likely death.” I glance over at Tom and he looks shell-shocked. His blue eyes are wider than I have ever seen them before and he is staring intently at the TV. “Are you alright?” I ask, waving a hand in front of him.

He shakes his head and blinks. “I think so,” he answers, “That is the strangest death I've ever seen.” 

“Were you scared?” I ask earnestly. 

He looks down into my eyes, smiles and says, “Shitless.” Now, I know he's secretly enjoying the movie.

“I need something to drink,” I say as I pause the DVD. “Would you like something?”

“I'll have whatever you're drinking.” I know his favorite drink is Jameson, but I have none, so I fix him my favorite which is vodka and pineapple juice on the rocks. I like drinks where you can't taste the alcohol. 

As I bring the glasses in and hand him one, I smile, “I hope you like pineapple juice.”

“I love it,” he says, taking a sip. “Perfect!”

Sitting down and settling back into the crook of his arm, I start the movie again. I set my drink down on the side table and pick up the bowl of popcorn once again. As I dig in, I feel the arm that is around me move and his hand is in my popcorn bowl. “Hey,” I jest and lightly smack the back of his hand, “That's mine.” Tom laughs quietly and I shove the popcorn bowl into his lap. “Alright, I suppose I'll let you have some,” I huff in jest as I take a long sip from my drink.

Tom happily dives into the popcorn bowl, grabbing handfuls of it and spilling some as he puts it in his mouth and within minutes, it is nearly emptied. I am in the process of trying to retrieve some popcorn for myself when I feel his body go rigid and his hand fly up to his face. “Oh!” he yelps. I glance at the TV and there has been another gruesome death, this one more horrific than the last. I look back at him and he has his hand over his eyes, with just a slit between his fingers to look through. 

I pull him closer to me and gently hold my hand on his chin, directing his attention away from the TV screen and towards me. “Are you gonna be alright?” I ask. He slowly takes his hand down and his face is ghost white as he nods his head.

Leaning in forehead to forehead with him, his breath on my face, I look him in the eye and whisper, “I'm sorry, I thought you might enjoy this one.” 

I feel him gather me in his arms and suddenly he is upon me again, his lips soft on mine, moving hungrily over them. I moan, feeling the kiss in every fiber of my being. I reach my hands up behind his head and grasp his soft curls, letting them run through my fingers, using them to pull him closer to me. His tongue pries my lips open, runs along my teeth, dances with my tongue. I hear him moan as well, the sound sending my body into overdrive. I pull back from him and take a deep breath. “Well, they say fear is a great aphrodisiac,” I joke. 

Tom is looking at me hungrily, ignoring the screams coming from the television. “They are entirely correct,” he says, his voice thick, his eyes heavy. He pulls me into his lap, spilling the remainder of the popcorn bowl on the floor and sets to kissing, licking, nibbling on my neck as his hand works its way up the front of my shirt. His fingers once again find my waiting breast and begin kneading, pinching my nipple and rolling it between his fingers. 

I twist and adjust until I am straddling him, feeling his mostly-unharnessed girth as it presses up against me, our clothing maddeningly between us. He groans slightly as I lean into him, teasing him. In one fluid movement, he takes off my shirt, exposing my breasts to the cool air, making my nipples even harder. He smiles appreciatively and his kisses migrate from my neck to my collarbone, and finally suckling on one of my hardened nipples. I arch my back and my mound presses up against his manhood even more. He groans again, the delicious tension growing until he delves his hand down the front of my jeans and presses his fingers up against my sex. I begin grinding on him in earnest, goading him on to use his long, sinuous fingers to pleasure me. Instead of playing with me more, Tom pulls his hand back and begins to undo my jeans. He urges me to help him pull them off, which I oblige him by standing up and removing them, throwing them in a heap with my discarded t-shirt. He looks at me like a wolf to its prey, hungrily, lustily. 

I feel exposed as the cool air hits the moist heat of my sex and it makes the burning in my core come closer to combustion. Reaching in to help remove his shirt, I am denied as he leans away from me. “Uh, uh, uh, you didn't say the magic word,” he says devilishly. Now I know I'm in trouble. He's quoting movies and not Shakespeare. 

I take a deep breath. “Please?” I say sweetly. The denial of his touch is nearly as maddening as the touch itself at this point.

He raises his hand and a hard smack comes down on my ass. “No, try again,” he smiles. 

The spot where his hand landed is giving way to a rising heat. “Pretty please with sugar on top?” I ask.

“Nope, that's not it either,” he answers, another spank, this time to the other side of my ass. He has his jaw locked in determination. 

“Damn you, Hiddleston,” I whisper in frustration, then say, “Will you please let me take your shirt off?” My voice cracks slightly as I say it.

He stands up, his whole 6'2” frame towering above my measly 5'. He leans down, his mouth next to my ear, his breath hot and driving me crazy. “You're wrong again.” He draws back his hand and smacks my ass again, but this time his hand lingers there, massaging the sting out. The heat from my backside seems to seep into my sex and every inch of me feels like I am on fire. I am looking up into his eyes, his pupils are dilated with absolute lust. We are in a showdown now, and I am set to lose. His tongue darts out and he licks his lips as his hand slowly creeps toward the front of me. It leaves a trail of heat as his fingertips brush against my hip and then to my inner thigh and finally against my folds, where they rest. He is not going to make this easy on me.

I sigh in desperation and, once again, try to grab at his shirt. Instead, he pulls away just far enough that I can't get a good grasp, but close enough that he still has me in his clutch and the pressure there, is enough to make me crazy. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back and moan. “Take me,” I say, my voice low. “Take me, do what you will to me, just take me.” This is apparently the magic word. 

Tom gets closer to me once again and I feel his fingers slip into my folds, lightly caressing in all the right places. I grab his shirt and this time, there is no fight as he lets me pull it off of him. He removes his fingers from me just long enough for me to get them out of his sleeve. His touch is nearly enough to send me over the edge. 

I grasp his pants next, pulling them in one fell swoop over his perfect ass and down to the floor, where he kicked them off. His luscious cock was standing at attention, waiting for my touch, which I was happy to oblige. I grasped it,encircling it with my thumb and forefinger, sliding my fingers slowly down his shaft, eliciting a soft moan from him. I pushed him back towards the couch and he sat down. His fingers still working delicately on me, I leaned over and slid my mouth over his waiting cock, letting my tongue gently flick the head, my saliva lubricating as I took his entirety. His free hand grasped the back of my head, his fingers weaving through my hair as I bobbed my head up and down. 

As I moved, his finger slipped inside me, pressing against my most sensitive spot, his thumb massaging me from the outside. I moaned, my heat rising, feeling myself at the precipice; the vibration on the back of my throat was enough to start driving him over the edge as well. He groaned, pulling me from him and pulling his fingers from me. “I want to be inside you when you come,” he whispered gruffly. 

I straddled him once again and he grasped my hips, lifting me up just enough to position himself at my entrance, and then pulled me down, sheathing himself in my folds to the hilt. I gasped in pleasure, a lightning bolt shooting through me, and began to rock my hips toward him. His hands grasped my ass, kneading, pulling me down on him as I rocked. I kissed him, my tongue penetrating his mouth every bit as much as he was penetrating me. He lifted me up again, then pulled me down hard. “Oh God, Tom,” I moaned, feeling it to the core. He did it again, this time catching my breast in his mouth and nibbling at my nipple as I arched my back. The pressure that had been building inside me reached the point of no return and I began writhing, screaming, riding him to my climax. Each time I felt myself coming back down, he would thrust again and a new peak would begin until finally, I felt his cock twitch inside me, against my constricting walls, and I pumped against him, riding out his apex, both of us collapsing in a sweaty heap on the couch. 

“You really did miss me, didn't you?” he laughed. 

I pulled an errant curl away from his eye and kissed his forehead. “I really did.”

At that moment, my nosy neighbor pounded on my door. “Are you alright?” she yelled through the thin wood, “I heard screaming.”

“Yes, Mrs. G.” I answered, “I'm just watching a horror movie.” I nearly snorted from trying not to laugh at Tom's astonished face.

“OK,” she said, “Can you turn it down just a smidge, then, I need to get some sleep.”

Tom couldn't stifle his laughter any longer and let go in a hail of, “Ehehehehe”s. When his fit had subsided, he pulled me close and breathlessly whispered, “God, I love you.”

My heart leaped. I smiled, gazing into his blue eyes, “I love you, too.”

The movie stopped and the DVD flicked over to the menu, loudly. I reached over for the remote and turned the TV off, leaving us in total darkness. Tom wrapped his arms around me and mumbled, “Oh, look, it's dark. Do you fancy another go? Let's see if you can out-scream the movie this time.”  
I slid down next to him on the couch, laid down with my head on he opposite armrest, legs spread, and pulled him on top of me. “I'm all yours,” I purred, “Why don't you direct this one?”


End file.
